Piper's love life didn't go quite the way she planned. She explains her terrible experiences with crushes over the years starting with second grade. Will she ever find the right guy or will she just give up and throw down the flag? Read to find out!

My
symptoms only occur when I'm around this one specific person.
Sometimes it's only one thing, like all of a sudden I can't feel
my fingertips or I feel a little jittery.

Or
sometimes I get the symptoms all together and it ends when I collapse
without warning.

Sounds
terrible, right?

I
must have some type of cancer.

I've
never seen a doctor about this. But to see a doctor for such a small
thing would be pretty stupid.

Maybe
I should just get rid of the one who causes my symptoms.

Wow.
That made me sound unreasonably wicked. Shall I rephrase that? Or
just cut straight to the chase?

Whatever.

Hi.
I'm piper. I'm your average every day high school junior with a
little sickness people like to call love.

You
know, I wish they'd put a big neon pink warning messages in the
freshman year handbooks:

WARNING:
HIGH SCHOOL LIFE SUCKS; SAVE YOURSELVES AND GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL
CAN.

But
they don't, do they?

If
they did, I wouldn't be in this ridiculous position.

Why,
you ask?

Oh,
it's a long, difficult, and disgusting story.

Let's
start back at the beginning, shall we?

In
January of 1998, I was a cute little second grader who had just moved
to New Jersey about a week after Christmas. I was your typical new
kid with butterflies in her tummy cause she's afraid she's not
going to make any new friends. As it turns out, there was a girl who
just couldn't wait to meet me and be my best friend. Her name was
Jessica. There was another girl named Stacy who was also anxiously
awaiting my arrival. This big Asian kid threw up all over her after
music this one day towards the end of the year.

Is
it sad if that's all I really remember about her?

Then,
there was Darby.

Darby
was like the bitchy cheerleading captain on the high school cheer
squad whom nobody likes but everyone wants to be friends with.

Or
Regina from mean girls.

Let
me remind you that this was second grade.

Darby
had a posse. Her right hand man (well, actually, woman) was Jennifer.
Jennifer made fun of everyone. Even Darby. She told me that I laughed
too much one time at lunch.

Is
it really possible to laugh too much?

I
thought laughter was the best medicine.

Nick,
Darby's other right hand man, was nice though. I think he had a
crush on me because he would always ask me to sit with him and
Jennifer and Darby (even though they wanted me anywhere else but
around them)

But
the whole reason for bringing you back to me second grade life is
this:

It
was my very first crush.

I
couldn't, for the life of me, tell you what his name was. And I
barely even remember what he looked like. Actually, I don't
remember him at all. But I do remember that he has brown hair and a
slight gap in his two front teeth. That was my reason for liking him.
My stupid, second grade reason. It was the smallest crush ever.

I
think his name was Jason. Or Justin.

And
so, Jason/Justin was the kick-start to my crush career.

I
really wish Jason/Justin didn't exist.

He/he
would have saved me a whole lot of emotional scarring.

But
this is only the beginning.

September
1999-2001. These are the years I am most embarrassed about because
the kid that I crushed on for the entirety of my elementary school
life was a compete dork. I moved again between second and third
grade, so once again I found myself dreading the no friends
butterflies.

However,
along came Steven. My second crush.

Who
lasted a whole three years.

my
best friend (at the time) and I used to have "fights" over which
of us Steven liked more. I remember that we had a three-hour phone
conversation about how cute we thought he was.

Gag
me with a spoon.

Make
that a pitchfork.

By
the end of fifth grade, I'd realized that Steven just wasn't cool
enough for me.

I
also realized that he wasn't cool at all.

Then
came the ultra-dramatic sixth grade!

Sixth
grade was a big change for me. I made new, cooler friends and changed
my drab fashion of too-short jeans and baggy t-shirts to tight
bellbottom jeans and skinny tops.

I
was the shit.

And
I was friends with some of the most popular girls in the school.

How?
Got me.

My
crush? Anthony.

He
sat behind me in literacy. I thought he was the cutest thing ever! I
wrote his name all over the journal that I kept for about 2 weeks of
that year.

Unfortunately,
drama overcame my life way back in sixth grade too.

Direct
quotation from said journal: "I feel like he's cheating on me
cause he acts like he was a crush on me but he flirts big time with
all the other girls."

I
hardly knew this kid!

He
hardly knew me!

Hah.
"Big time". I don't know anyone who uses those two words
together anymore.

Cassie
told me she was going to talk to him and get his screen name.

My
reaction? SQUEEE!

But
she never really did. She asked him who he liked though, and he told
her he didn't like anyone.

At
that point in time, not liking anyone was a big deal to me.

How
on EARTH could you POSSIBLY not have a crush on someone?!

If
someone asked me that question, I'd laugh in their face and say:

"It's
easy."

So,
as sixth grade drew to a close, I left Anthony behind and entered
middle school.

Junior
high!

It
was not long before I'd found myself a new seventh grade crush.

His
name was Anthony too, but he was a lot cooler than the Anthony from
sixth grade.

This
was the year of the numbers.

When
you liked someone, you would take the number of letters in his first
name and the number of letters in his last name and then write it all
over the binder of your choice. For example, if I had a crush on
John(4) Smith(5), I would write 45 all over my history binder in a
permanent marker of my choice. Or, if I liked Orlando(7) Bloom(5), I
would use the number 75. Or, if I thought Arnold(6)
Schwarzenegger(14) was unbelievably attractive (which I don't), I
would write 614 all over my German binder.

But,
that year passed just like any other year: uneventfully.

I
liked Anthony.

Anthony
didn't even know I existed.

And
so continues my sad life.

Eighth
grade wasn't much better.

Only
the drama increased massively.

His
name was Jordan.

He
wasn't too popular, and barely had any female friends, so I figured
I had a chance.

But
there were a few problems.

Problem
#1.

I
used to turn around and smile at him every five minutes during
history.

Please
excuse me while I purge myself in this corner.

This
was the year that I thought "if I'm obvious about my crush on
him, maybe he'll like me back."

Problem
#2.

I
found out not long after I started liking him that I was one of three
girls who liked him. Me, Megan, and Michelle.

Megan
was a friend of mine, and Michelle was a friend of Megan's.

So
it was almost like a competition.

Problem
#3.

Jordan's
ego was bigger than his hair.

He
purely enjoyed being liked by 3 girls.

If
he'd had his way, he would have dated all three of us.

All
at the same time.

Problem
#4.

He
liked Michelle best.

It's
always depressing to lose something. Whether it's a race or a
person's affection blanket you've had since you were born, it
leaves an empty black hole inside of you.

It's
extremely hard to fill that hole too.

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